


The Gift

by Autistic_council_spectre



Series: Waking Dream [3]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Birthday, F/F, F/M, Feyn loves her anyways tho, Fluff and Angst, Ziir is a dumbass, the biggest dumbass
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-29
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-07-18 21:23:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16127012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Autistic_council_spectre/pseuds/Autistic_council_spectre
Summary: Shaziira Valtieri is a dumbass who forgets that people celebrate birthdaysaka today is my hatching date and im giving myself the gift of fluff





	The Gift

Time was irrelevant when you were assured to live forever unless someone or something was determined to killed you. And those things were few and far between, either being too weak to kill you or realizing it was a lost cause and fleeing with their tail between their legs. So Shaziira Valtieri, Hero of Kvatch and Champion of Cyrodill, Avatar of a Mad God, forgot that people celebrated the day they were spawned.

It started with an off handed comment when Feynaril asked about her age, something about not counting anymore, before the subject changed and Shaziira missed the look that crossed her paramours face. Then it moved on to unsubtle questioning about when she was born.

Of course...considering the fact she didn't know she tossed out the date she was found in that cell: the twenty-eighth of Hearthfire. She was fairly certain it was in a few months but had no reason to wonder why he was suddenly so curious. Perhaps to gauge just how many years she had on him? (The answer was far too many truly, it….worried her sometimes. The age gap and the fact she could hurt him by accident. Either mentally by not understanding what it was like to be mortal or physically with too strong of a hug or a playing bite gone wrong.)

So when he said he had a “trip” of some sort but evaded her questions of what he was doing and where he was going she simply assumed he had decided it was too much and now was the time to leave. Understandable really so she didn't press the issue too far, just helped him pack and shoved as much food as possible in him and his bag. (“I don't need that much damned food-” “I don't eat Feyna, it will go to waste. Take it.” And begrudgingly he did with a mumble about being a mother hen.)

After she bid him goodbye she took a few days to drown her sorrows in wine with Seranas eagle eyed supervision. (“The last time I let you drink by yourself you almost got into a fist fight with my father, I'm staying here lest you attempt to fight the Jarl.” There was of course a bonus in gentle kisses and a warm body pressed against hers when night fell.) Before returning to her off and on work. There were bounties to be filled and disputes to be solved, if she had to speak to one more pissy Noble she was going to scream, and dragons to slay. So much to do she slowly let her sadness slip from her mind in the monotony of her work.

Of course it still hurt like a knife to the gut when she rolled over in the night, reaching out and expecting her lover to be there, to find a bed filled only with CuSith. Understandable, that was what she told herself over and over, she would  _ make _ herself believe it.

As time went by the sharp edge dulled itself to a firm ache in her chest when she thought about Feynaril and idly wondered where in the hells he wandered off to. Knowing him he managed to break a leg within the first day of his departure.

So to say she was surprised when she came home one day to him on her chair would be an understatement. Her hand rested on the handle as she blinked one, two, three times and yep. He was still there. Relaxing in her chair with a bag at his side and a box under his feet, flashing her a tired grin. “Did you miss me furball?”

“No.” He laughed at that and she flashed a brief far too toothy smile before coming to sit next to him, perched on the chair with her hands under her chin. (“You look like a gargoyle when you do that.” “Fuck off.”)

She watched him then for a long moment, quietly appraising and examining him for wounds or scars. “You know you make me feel like a piece of meat when you look at me like that.”

Slowly she blinked at him, cocking her head to the left and right before responding. “...Bold of you to assume you're not.” That got a brief shocked look before a snort of laughter and a tail slapping down briefly on the floor.

“Oh, oh fuck you. I thought we had something.” He was grinning all sharp teeth back at her and taking that Tone. That teasing, mocking tone they batted back and forth at each other. “I thought we were  _ friends _ here Ziir. And after all the trouble I went through to get you this “ He lifted his foot to give it a tap and her eyes automatically flicked down to it.

He wasn't wearing shoes again she noted, claws and green scaly skin stark against the black of the box under it. It was an expensive box, black wood and golden inlays. It looked... familiar, but that would mean it was potentially several centuries old or a very good replica.

“...would not tell me where the hell to go and then I thought he was going to up and stab me to steal the little bit of coin I had on me. Eventually thought I tracked it down and tada! A present of your stuff.” Here she squinted at him, silently questioning what he was on about. This made him flush and he awkwardly scratched at his red fluff of feathers. “I just. Figured you didn't have any important reason to celebrate your hatch day. So I was going to find you a reason.”

The box was hoisted from the floor into her lap, making her let out a surprised noise at the weight. It was at least as heavy as a small child and touching it brought back a hint of memories but they slipped through her fingers like so many grains of sand. Slowly she undid the clasps on the box and lifted the lid, careful of the inlay as she placed it on the floor and just. Stared for a moment.

Her armor stared back at her, silver and gold with a dragon emblazoned on the chest. Gauntlets that ended in claw tips and in its hand...in it's hand lay the real Amulet Of Kings. (“You won't be able to find all the pieces, they were shattered when he-” “ _ Shut up, shut up if you're not going to fucking help _ !”)(It took her weeks, weeks and weeks to find and put it together again. Before she buried it with her armor, tossed it in a lake where no one should have been able to find it. Let that part of her life drown so she wouldn't have to confront it again, confront the grief, the pain.)

“...you okay Ziir?” She looked up from where she was lost in thought, hands curled around the Amulet protectively as if someone would take it, to see him looking concerned. “You're crying, I don't think I've ever seen you cry even when you got stabbed.”

She choked on a lil laugh then and wiped red tears from her cheeks, before resting her head on his shoulder, one hand still on the Amulet the other on his leg gently. “Yeah I. I haven't been this okay in a long time.”

Time was irrelevant when you were assured to live forever unless someone or something was determined to killed you. But sometimes someone came along and make it worth thinking about again. 

**Author's Note:**

> see i don't always hurt my child   
> mostly


End file.
